by Alex Siegel
She quickly went through the entire crate of teargas, popping the top of every canister and dropping it into the duct. It was a big ship, and it would take a lot of gas to saturate the air.
As soon as Marina was done, she ran towards the bow of the ship. She knew exactly where a large group of enemies had fortified a defensive position in a galley.
She settled into a firing position facing the door the enemy was hiding behind. She loaded a grenade into the launcher. The gas was already getting thick enough to irritate her nose even with the mask on. It would be hell for everybody else.
* * *
Vulture was coughing violently.
"We have to get out of here!" Sheila cried between gasps.
His eyes were watering so much, he could hardly see her. His lungs and nasal cavities felt like they were on fire. He wanted nothing more than to run up to the main deck and take a deep breath of fresh air.
"No," he said in a rough voice. "That's exactly what she wants. We'll be ambushed."
His quarters had portholes, and he ran to the nearest one. He fought with the heavy, brass latch until he finally managed to yank it open. Fresh air blew in and gave him a little relief, but he was still miserable. Sheila put her head next to his in front of the open hole.
"What are we going to do?" she whined.
He frowned. "I don't know."
* * *
Here they come, Marina thought.
The door of the galley opened, and people stumbled out. They were a mix of guards in black body armor, technicians in red uniforms, and crewmen in white. As soon as a decent number of them were exposed, Marina fired a grenade into the middle of the crowd. The resulting devastation was everything she had hoped for.
She pumped more grenades to make sure they were dead, and she shot several of the 40mm rounds into the galley. She had tons of ammunition, so there was no need to be stingy.
There wasn't time to check for survivors. Another group of enemies was in the stern of the ship, and she wanted to deal with them first.
She sprinted in that direction. It was hard to breathe through the gas mask, but she wasn't the least bit fatigued. She could go at this pace all night.
The enemy was already stumbling out from behind a barricade when Marina arrived. The gas was making their eyes water so much, they didn't even see her coming. They just wanted to get upstairs into open air.
They never had a chance. Her grenade launcher quickly turned rooms and hallways into morgues full of shredded bodies. She pumped round after round, and the ship rang like a bell with each explosion.
This time she checked the dead to make sure they were really dead. She used her pistol to perform a coup de grâce on a few that were still moaning. As she worked, she considered her next step. Some enemies remained on the upper decks, and of course, Vulture still needed her attention. She was happy the job wasn't quite done though. She was having a hell of a good time.
* * *
"We're dropping in ten seconds!" the legate yelled. "Get ready!"
Hanley gripped the arms of his chair with all his strength. Safety belts were tight across his chest and lap, but he hardly felt safe.
The high-tech sensors onboard the legate's bomber had located the Fearless Star after only twenty minutes of searching. The ship's powerful radar was practically a homing beacon. Hanley would remember this fact for future reference.
The plan was to drop the "drop boat" into the path of the ship. It was moving fast and would be hard to catch from behind. There was little danger of getting shot out of the sky at night.
The legate's participation in the operation impressed Hanley. She was the equivalent of a general in an army, and senior commanders didn't usually go out on such high-risk missions. Especially in light of her age, he wouldn't have thought less of her if she had decided to stay on her plane. Taking insane risks was a legionnaire's job.
"Is every mission this exciting?" Yang said nervously.
"This is only my third," Hanley said, "but it's the biggest so far."
He heard the rush of wind as bomb bay doors opened underneath the boat. Latches released, and suddenly, he was in free fall. His stomach tried to climb up his throat. He couldn't see much, and all he could do was clench his jaw and pray he survived.
The nose of the boat tipped downwards, and it became a missile dropping out of the sky. The roar of the wind against the hull increased until it was deafening. Hanley fought the urge to scream. He was afraid the boat would break up like a meteor hitting the atmosphere.
He heard a loud bang as parachutes were deployed at the rear. He was thrown forward against his safety straps with bruising force. Violent deceleration caused blood to pool in his legs, and he felt light-headed. After a moment, the boat splashed into the ocean, submerged, and then bobbed to the surface.
Everything became quiet, and he took a few seconds to settle down. His muscles slowly unclenched. Still alive, he thought.
"Get to work!" the legate said. "We don't have time for coffee breaks."
She turned on a small light so everybody could see what they were doing.
Hanley freed himself from his chair and tried to focus on his job. The hull had two halves which fit together like clam shells. He and Ipo released latches which held the halves together. They pushed off the top half and let it fall into the ocean, transforming the boat into a more normal configuration. Cool, moist air washed over them.
Hanley looked up at a beautiful night sky full of twinkling stars. The heavens were glorious tonight. His appreciation for God's handiwork was growing these days.
The lights of a very large ship were ahead. The boat had been dropped into the perfect position for an assault. The legate was in the pilot's seat, and she started the turbine engine. It made more noise than Hanley would've liked, but they needed the power to intercept the fast ship. She drove directly towards it at full speed.
* * *
The loud banging noises finally stopped, but Vulture didn't relax. They had sounded like explosions on the ship. A war was being fought out there.
The other Pythagoreans had told him horror stories about the Gray Spear Society, but he had assumed they were exaggerations or even outright lies. Nobody could be that dangerous. At this point, he was willing to accept the stories as plain truth. It appeared one lone woman was clearing an entire ship full of armed men.
It was time for him to go. A helicopter was parked on the stern of the ship, and while he wasn't the best helicopter pilot, he could fly well enough to reach land safely. A red speedboat was also docked at the back of the ship. Helicopters were faster, but they were visible on air traffic control radars and could stay in the air for only a few hours. The speedboat seemed a slightly safer choice.
Regardless, he needed to escape from his cabin first, but he didn't want to go through the interior of the ship. There was still a lot of tear gas floating around, and the woman was there.
Vulture poked his head out of the porthole. The ship was travelling at full speed, and the ocean was rushing past fast enough to create spray. If he dropped into the water, he would be lost at sea. There was no way he could grab onto something in time.
He looked up. The main deck was above the porthole, but reaching it would require a considerable amount of flexibility and strength. He didn't have much choice. He pushed a chair over to help him get out.
"What are you doing, darling?" Sheila said.
"Leaving," Vulture said.
"What about me?"
"Sorry, babe. You're on your own."
She gasped.
Getting out the porthole was even more difficult than he expected. His shoulders barely fit through the opening, and the edge had a sharp brass lip. He almost slipped and fell a couple of times. The rush of adrenaline gave him just enough strength to grab the edge of the main deck with one hand. He flailed with the other hand until he got a firm grip. He hauled himself up and over the edge.
For a moment, he just stayed on the wooden deck and
tried to catch his breath.
"I'm coming up!" Sheila yelled. "Wait for me!"
Vulture looked over the edge. She was climbing out of the porthole and having even more difficulty than he had experienced. Her arms weren't long enough to reach the deck.
"Help me!" she cried as she struggled to get a grip. Her fingernails scraped at the hull.
"Sorry," he said. "You'll just slow me down."
She slipped and fell into the Pacific. The ship moved on, and a second later, she was lost in the darkness. She wouldn't last long in the cold water with just a thin nightgown for protection.
Vulture forgot about her and focused on his own problems. He needed to reach the speedboat, but it was at the far end of the ship. The long deck of the Fearless Star now seemed a lot longer. He stood and slowly crept towards the stern.
Chapter Twenty-four
Marina decided it was finally time to deal with Vulture. She had finished clearing the lower decks, and the remaining stragglers above could be safely ignored for a while. She expected they were doing everything possible to avoid her.
She went back to the spot she had seen six guards earlier. She glanced around the corner, and only two were there this time. She admired their dedication and bravery as she loaded a grenade into her launcher. She fired around the corner. When she looked again, she saw their courage had earned them a quick but messy death.
The explosion had also blasted open the door they were guarding. Marina approached the opening with her assault rifle ready to fire. She made a semicircle, checking the room from all angles before entering. It was a technique known in the business as "slicing the pie." When it seemed safe, she rushed in.
The master cabin contained a bed fit for a king. All the surfaces were made of wood, and the use of alternating types of wood was masterful. Glass cases contained traditional navigational instruments such as a sextant and an astrolabe.
Marina didn't see Vulture though. Men and women's clothes were lying out, so clearly, people had been here.
An open porthole made her run over and look outside. A highly motivated man might be able to reach the main deck that way. It appeared her enemy had slipped away, but he was probably still on the ship.
Marina heard the high whine of an approaching boat with a turbine engine. It was either good news or bad news, but either way, she had to check it out.
She ran off.
* * *
"Get ready to jump off!" the legate yelled.
Hanley gripped the edge of the boat. The legate wasn't going to dock with the Fearless Star because that would expose the team to enemy fire for too long. Instead, she intended to brush past the stern at speed. Everybody was supposed to jump at exactly the right instant and go straight into battle. Even with all the derring-do, Hanley still expected to get shot if he didn't end up in the ocean. It was a risky maneuver to put it mildly.
The good news was they were properly equipped. During a brief visit to headquarters on the way to the legate's airplane, the team had changed into advanced body armor. Helmets protected their heads. As long as they didn't get shot in the face or by a particularly large bullet, they would survive.
They were getting close enough for Hanley to see people on the ship. Some wore black body armor, some wore red uniforms, and some wore white. They carried assault rifles and pistols. Hanley counted at least twenty, and all of them were aiming their weapons at the approaching speedboat. The engine noise made a covert approach impossible.
This is going to suck, Hanley thought.
The legate suddenly veered away. Obviously, she had had the same thought.
"What are we going to do, ma'am?" Hanley yelled over the engine.
"I'll do it alone," she replied.
He looked to Boreas who shrugged helplessly.
She made a big loop until she was well ahead of the ship.
"Take the wheel," the legate told Hanley.
He replaced her in the pilot's seat. She stood up and grabbed the windshield.
"Now flip around," she said. "Come at the ship head-on and shoot past it."
"But the speed..."
"Don't question me!"
He grimaced. "Yes, ma'am."
He spun the wheel and performed an emergency U-turn. With the throttle at full, he drove straight towards the Fearless Star. He estimated the closing speed was fifty miles per hour, and he couldn't believe the legate intended to jump.
"Are you really going to do this?" Hanley yelled.
She climbed onto the bow of the speedboat with an expression of total focus.
The main deck of the ship was lowest towards the rear, so he chose an angle that would launch her at that area. He started hearing the crack of gunfire. The enemy would have a hard time hitting such a fast-moving target, but he ducked down anyway.
Hanley swerved right, and the legate leapt. She sailed through the air with her machetes out like a pair of silver-plated wings. He swerved left and barely avoided crashing into the ship.
When he had control of the boat, he looked back. She was already running across the deck leaving blood sprays in her wake. She was just a black blur of fast-moving death.
"I hate it when she does that," Boreas said. "I'm supposed to protect her."
Hanley smiled.
"Flip around!" Boreas added. "Get us on that ship."
Hanley turned the wheel.
* * *
Vulture couldn't believe his eyes. He had just seen a woman fly onto the ship at a speed that should've killed her, and she decapitated a man before she even landed. Now she was running around like a black tornado with silver blades for wings. Any lingering doubts about the Gray Spear Society evaporated. Those people were true monsters, and he regretted ever thinking he could challenge them.
The tornado was headed towards the bow, so he sprinted to the stern. He no longer cared about stealth. He just wanted to get the hell off the ship before that thing took his head.
The red speedboat was still tied to the docking platform at the back. He was about to untie it when he saw the black boat start to come around. If he fled now, the enemy would see him. Instead, he climbed into the red boat and hid in a compartment in back. He had a big body, but he forced it to curl into a tight ball. Terror motivated him, and his only movement was shivering.
* * *
Marina crept up behind a crewman with a knife in her hand. She was about to cut his throat when a very surprising event happened. A silver machete split his skull straight down the middle. The body dropped to the deck, and Ethel was standing behind him with a deathly smile on her face.
It was an awkward moment for Marina who had left the legate on poor terms earlier. A hug seemed appropriate considering their long friendship, but one didn't touch the legatus legionis without an explicit invitation.
Marina eventually said, "Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry about that scene in the community center."
"You're OK now?" Ethel said.
"I'm great. I healed myself."
"I knew you would. What's the situation?"
"I cleared out the lower decks," Marina said, "but there might still be a few hiding in odd places. It's a big ship."
"How many did you kill?"
"A hundred. Maybe a hundred and twenty."
Ethel snorted softly. "And we rushed to save you. We could've waited a little longer for you to finish the job."
"The sentiment is appreciated nonetheless, ma'am. Did you happen to kill a tall, good looking man? He has a partial beard and a mustache. Scar on his nose. Probably wearing a dark red suit."
"I don't think so. I assume you're talking about Vulture."
"Yes. It seems our prize bird is still at large." Marina frowned and looked around. "Where is everybody else?"
"Still on the boat. Let's finish clearing these decks, and then we'll meet them."
The two women made a quick circuit around the ship together. Marina had enjoyed fighting alone, but having an old friend at her side was even more fun. They had been thr
ough many missions in Chicago, and neither had to tell the other what to do. Almost too quickly, the ship was cleared and the nostalgic interlude was over.
They met Hanley, Ipo, Katie, Yang, and Boreas near the stern.
Hanley actually came forward and hugged Marina. She didn't know how to respond, so she just patted him on the back.
"Thanks for coming, guys," she said, "even though it's a little embarrassing. I shouldn't need to be rescued. We're still looking for Vulture. We'll check the entire ship one more time to make sure he's not here." She looked past Hanley's shoulder and noticed something odd. A black boat was tied to the docking platform, but the red boat was missing. "Was a red speedboat here when you arrived?"
"Yes." Hanley turned around. "It was."
Marina's eyes widened. "Shit! He got away, but I didn't hear an engine. He must've just cut himself loose." She looked at a white helicopter parked on the deck. "Hanley, Ipo, let's go."
She ran to the chopper and sat in the pilot's seat. She had never flown this particular model, but the important controls were standard. She flipped the ignition switch, and twin turbojet engines began to spin up.
Ipo and Hanley sat in the passenger compartment, but they left their doors open. They had rifles in their hands.
After the engine was at full power, Marina pulled the collective, and the helicopter lifted off. She headed in the direction opposite the ship's heading.
The helicopter had a searchlight attached to the nose. She turned it on, but it wasn't bright enough to illuminate a large area effectively. She turned off all the lights in the cockpit to improve her night vision. She flew in an "S" pattern to cover as much ocean as possible.
"Do you see him?" Marina yelled over her shoulder.
"Negative," Hanley replied.
"No, ma'am," Ipo said.
She spotted a glimmer in the water ahead. Something was leaving a wake. She followed the disturbance until the searchlight picked out the red speedboat. It was bouncing across the waves, and Vulture was at the wheel.